Tick

I have seen one too many fits pitched around this house lately. I was over it. I got out the video camera and videoed Kate and Cali having a melt down. After their meltdown, I finished getting them ready for bed. Will put Cali to bed so I could talk to Kate about her behavior without Cali interrupting. I showed her the video of her pitching a fit. She was sad that she acted that way.
While she watched the video, she begged me to never show it to anyone. So, I promised that if she would try really hard to not pitch a fit that I would record over it.

As we discussed her behavior and what I could do to help her with it (I know that sounds cheesy, but I want to know what makes her tick), ironically I found a tick on the back of her head. A big, ugly tick! I knew that she would get freaked out quite easily, so I yelled for Will to come to the bedroom. I had to yell a few times because he didn’t come right away. [The yelling woke Cali up, who decided to come see what all the yelling was about]. When he got in the bedroom, I told him the situation.

Tick.

Attached.

To the back of . . .

“No, Mommy, NO! Don’t hurt me!” “What’s a tick?” “What do you mean?” “I can’t breathe” “Don’t hold me down” “Why’s it on me?” “Help!” “You’re hurting me!” [All the while Kate is screaming, crying, turning blue, flailing on the floor].

Will and I hold her down, after struggling for a few minutes, I pull the tick off (with a nice hunk of her bleeding skin) and proceed to show it to her. I explained it something like this, “See this bug, Kate, it was eating your head. That skin in its mouth is from your head. It was sucking the blood right through your skin. It was stuck to your head and it wasn’t going to let go until I pulled it off.” I then let it crawl on a piece of toilet paper for a couple of seconds so she could see that it was alive. Then, Will smashed it and killed it. She finally started to breathe normal again and the screaming stopped.

I thoroughly checked her and Cali for more ticks at this point (I won’t talk about how I think Cali is a masochist and sat in my lap for me to “Do me Mommy. I want a tick.”). The whole time Kate is asking thirty questions. “Where did it come from? How did it get on me? Do they live in houses? Did it get in my bed? Why do animals have ticks? Why did it bite me? Why didn’t it hurt? Do ticks hurt? Have you ever had a tick? Did it hurt?. . .” on and on and on.

So, I answered all of the questions, calmed them both down and put them to bed (did I mention this whole ordeal only took about an hour or maybe a little more?)After putting them to bed, I walked to the kitchen where Will was painting and mentioned that he should check that place on the back of her head tomorrow to make sure it looks okay and that there isn’t any kind of rash or anything. I very casually said, “Bless her heart, I don’t want her to end up with Lyme Disease after all that!” A few minutes later I hear, “MOM, come here!” I go in the bedroom and she says, “What’s Lyme Disease?” Oh, geez. . . she’s a certifiable hypochondriac at the age of four, like mother, like daughter